The Gay Guide to Glee: Season 2 Episode 4, “Duets”

Glee stuck a stiff and barbed one right in the bullseye this week. Or maybe it was the bull’s balls, since the episode was all about pairs and pairings, and while there are two eyes on every bovine, the dart-centric analogue is decidedly singular. At any rate, the show was full of jokes I laughed at, situations I found poignant, and at least a few songs I didn’t hate. It was also thematically consistent, and replete with storylines—and, for a change, a musical conceit—that reinforced, underscored, and enunciated the central theme, that of duets, be they of the euphonic or amorous variety. (There were also at least three boys’ locker-room scenes.) I would particularly like to point out, with my usual obnoxious quest for vindication, that conspicuously absent from this incredible success was any of the distracting codswallop that are the adult-centric storylines. But let’s not spend the whole column harping on how right I always am. Instead, let’s look at the dulcet duplets that made “Duets” (not Duvets, Brittany) such a delight.Kurt/Sam: Kurt gets crushed out, once again, on the quarterback, this time in the form of the Evangelista-maned Sam Evans, whose constantly bared arms appear just fine to me, despite their alleged dislocation by some messianic cheese toast last week. Kurt continues to demonstrate his position as the most complex and deeply developed character. If you have any doubt, watch the intense—and intensely adolescent—conversations he has with Finn, his dad, and himself about his affections, which subtly reveal his personal implication in his dilemmas. He even experiences growth (slash, abnegation), and bows out of partnering with Sam—song-wise or otherwise—even though Mr. Evans is a seemingly perfect partner, aside from not being particularly gay. Please note (vindicated, again!) that I was the first to push Chord Overstreet as the breakout star that he’s clearly becoming this season.

Santana/Brittany: Despite overt avowals to the contrary Santana and Brittany finally and fully get their lez on in this episode, horizontally speaking. Of course, it ends badly—and dude-ly—like it always does in straight girl soro-mances. But for an instant, I thought they might finally sing my longed-for rendition of Prince’s “Computer Blue&#8221—or at least stop that weird bird-kissing and take a bath.

Brittany/Artie: When this hook-up was initiated, even though it was ostensibly vocals-based, I immediately began to worry that were prematurely approaching Melrose Place, Season 4 levels of reckless pairing. But I adore Artie and would much rather see him lose his wheel-cherry (ugh!) to the exquisitely experienced Brittany (whom I also adore) than the frigid Tina. So I was saddened when, after he burned rubber inside Brit, he burned rubber back to his chilly, goth-y ex.

Tina/Mike: I have a personal theory that doing fake Asian accents is the lowest form of comedy, beneath even punning. And while I worried that Mike and Tina’s rel-Asian-ship (UGH!!) was drawing dangerously close to this 38th Parallel, it pulled back from the brink of the DMZ with the duo’s best-ever banter—even if it was cheap, chicken-feet and pig-knuckle-based. Given their bickering, they seem to be on their way out. But if this happens—and a Tina-Artie reunion seems as inevitable as a trip to an acupuncturist at this point—I hope Mike Chang gets repurposed in the show as someone else’s love interest. Or something. He has a sly charisma.

Sam/Quinn: I was a little disappointed initially in this partnership, not just because it implies that Sam Evans is going to be batting righty this baseball season, or because I can’t get behind him falling for the conservative Christian girl (particularly because her embarrassment last year likely nullifies the standard evangelical Anal Until Marriage pledge), but because I’m fully exhausted with the flimsy cheerleader/quarterback paradigm. But, they’re just so fucking cute together. Or, at least, he is: complimenting her in Na’avi, imitating Matthew McConaughey (!!) at dinner, and teaching her to play guitar like that handi-capable banjo-plucking redneck kid in Deliverance. But with his hair-bleaching confession and her pregnancy confession both out of the way, where’s the conflict? (Predictions: reclaimed virginity and, hopefully, mean Quinn!)

Rachel/Finn: For the first time EVER, I’m actually marginally compelled by a storyline involving these two. Well, Rachel, at least. (He’s about as captivating as a sheet of drywall.) Maybe it’s because the selfish shellfish finally succeeds in acting (sort of) selfless. How about Rachel gets a gut renovation on her interior to match the one she appears to have had on her exterior, and we turn her into someone we actually care about? Her showtune-al alignment with Kurt seems like an intriguing and fully natural place to dig—in an exquisitely grotesque kind of way.

• “Le Jazz Hot” (Victor/Victoria) ** I get the idea, and the execution is commendable, but it still kind of sucked.

• “Sing!” (A Chorus Line) **** Mike Chang sings about not being able to sing, which he can’t. But he dances like a Lotus. (Capital L: the car.)

• “With You I’m Born Again” (Billy Preston/Syreeta) *** I love this song in a fucking-your-balding-accountant-neighbor-on-the-polar-bear-rug-by-your-white-brick-fireplace-as-a-means-of-getting-over-your-divorce kind of way. But the intentional grotesqueness of the costumes and delivery debases it.

• “Lucky” (Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat) ** Technically proficient, but the effort at romance feels a bit primed (as in, forced), and the song is kind of boring.